


built on hope

by siehn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siehn/pseuds/siehn
Summary: After his talk with Jack, Cas retreated to his own room, ignoring the temptation to open Dean’s door as he passed it, too conscious of the fact he wouldn’t find its owner within.





	built on hope

**Author's Note:**

> A little episode tag to 14.01 which poked me until I wrote it. Might do more, we'll see.

The Bunker was full of people that Castiel did not know, who occasionally looked at him in a sideways, spooked sort of way. An old fear that Cas has almost forgotten now, having been with Sam and Dean for so long. He ignored them for the most part, skirted around the edges when he could, too focused on finding Dean to care overmuch what a bunch of humans from another world cared about him. It was still unsettling though, seeing the place bustle with so much activity, seeing it as a _base of operations_ rather than the home Dean made it. Not even the kitchen was safe, and after his talk with Jack, Cas retreated to his own room, ignoring the temptation to open Dean’s door as he passed it, too conscious of the fact he wouldn’t find its owner within.

It was _stupid_ to go to the demon. Cas knew that, knew it even as he was sitting there, but if there’d been even a _chance_ they knew something about Dean…

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, shrugging out of his coat. He should clean himself up, but something stopped him from getting to his feet and walking to the bathroom down the hall. Maybe it was just the fact he didn’t want to face anymore strangers tonight, to have them stare at him and see something he wasn’t. Or worse, what he _was_. He made a face at himself and looked around the room; it was bare for the most part. He rarely used it before he came back, and then he spent more time wandering the bunker at night while the others slept. It was almost the opposite of Dean’s room, such an inhabited space. Full up of _Dean_ and his tactile, magpie habits and the thought _hurts_ in a way it shouldn’t, for an angel.

Of course, Cas hasn’t really been just an angel for a long time.

“Castiel?” Mary asked from the doorway, one knuckle rapping against it before she stepped inside.

“Mary,” he turned to look at her and tried to dredge up some kind of smile, though from her reaction it probably fell short. No surprise, really; he was always falling short. “What do you need?”

She hesitated, glancing back into the hallway before sighing and shaking her head, stepping further into the room until she could gently kick the door shut behind her. Then she turned the same critical eye she used on Dean and Sam on him; it wasn’t often Castiel felt a human other than Dean could see through him, but Mary managed it now, arms crossed in front of her as she watched him avoid her gaze.

“How are you, Castiel?” She asked finally, far too much sympathy in her voice when he’d nearly gotten them all killed only hours before. He could think about what it means, the desperation and despondency when Dean is gone and Cas isn’t sure if he’s alive or dead or burned up by Archangel grace.

_I know who you love_ , the Empty whispered in his mind as Cas stared down at his hands, trying to decide if he wanted to answer her or not. He used to be able to do so much with those hands; he could have burned out that whole room of demons once, though the hands hadn’t been strictly _his_ , then. He wouldn’t trade it, either way; the power for all he had now. He’d rather have his family.

“I’m fine, Mary,” he answered eventually, looking up at her. It was what they said, when they weren’t. When it hurt so bad you wanted to curl up and forget the world for a while, but you _couldn’t_ because there was still a job to do, still someone to save. She was still staring at him, though.

“I miss him,” he admitted despite himself, toying with one sleeve of his suit jacket.

Mary sighed again and sat beside him. To her credit, she only hesitated a moment before reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you do,” she agreed, squeezing. “We’re going to get him back. You and Sam,” she huffed, smiling a little, though it seemed kind of sad to him.

“What—”

“You keep trying to do everything for everyone else and you forget to take care of yourselves, too. Would Dean want this,” she asked, shaking her head and gesturing towards the dried blood on his face, the cuts that still haven’t quite healed all the way.

Cas averted his gaze, hunching into his shoulders, into the tattered remains of his wings. Dean would have insisted on cleaning him up if Cas didn’t do it himself. He _missed_ that, the ease between them that also gave way to something else entirely. Occasionally tense, but more often soft and intimate in a way that made Cas want to _hope_.

 


End file.
